


Slow-Motion Suicide

by infectedscrew



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Exhaustion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:50:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6782362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infectedscrew/pseuds/infectedscrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hitting rock-bottom probably hurt less than this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow-Motion Suicide

The downward spiral to oblivion was painfully long. Just when it seemed like the end was in sight something came barreling out of the side to blow that hope right out of the water. On top of that, there were levels. Each portion of the road to pure and utter desolation was different. Which level he was on, he had no idea. But he was pretty sure that it dealt rather heavily into complete disregard for personal health and dignity.

After all, there was little honor to be had in the underground world of prostitution.

How Dick Grayson, former boy wonder and current Nightwing had gotten to this point, he wasn’t quite sure but Bludhaven had to be the cause of it all. This god forsaken city was hell on earth and he wanted to save it? Impossible. Every night was a battle of wills that tore each and every loose string out of his life. It threatened the very base of his existence. And yet he never gave up, nor would he ever.

“Hey, babe, how much?”

There was no form of help, either. After the police department discovered his vigilante ties, he had no choice but to quit. The bar wouldn’t take him back either, considering most of their costumers were Dick’s fellow cops. Employment was nearly impossible in Bludhaven as it was. After having every respectable option pulled away, Dick was suddenly understanding why most people turned to the criminal world.

“Can you do the rough stuff?”

Going back to Gotham had never crossed his mind. How would that look? Like a pathetic dog returning to its master. The very thought made him bare his teeth and snarl. After fighting with Bruce for so long, there was no way he was going to turn back, asking for forgiveness. As far as he was concerned, it was Bruce’s turn to drop to his knees and apologize. Even as far as he’d sunk, Bruce was never an option.

Yet, every once in awhile he thought about one or two people who would help. Alfred would jump at the chance to pull Dick back into his healing embrace. But that was almost worst. To be so close to proving that he was an adult and then turning around and running like a child back to his mother’s skirts. Ridiculous, he couldn’t do it.

“Tell your boss that you deserve a raise, baby. You did good tonight.”

Even Tim was a forgone choice. That boy had enough trouble on his plate. There was no way Dick would drag something so pure and innocent into the dirty, disgusting shit-hole that he had made for himself. Tim didn’t deserve that, didn’t need that. He needed someone who would support him with all of his choices and problems. Dick wasn’t that person.

No, Tim-Robin-was banned from Bludhaven. Told by Nightwing and Batman that he was not allowed to come back. However much it hurt to see Tim’s face when he was denied, Dick couldn’t let him see how far he’d lost himself. Let the boy keep his fantasies, Dick wasn’t going to ruin it.

“God, you look so slutty cumming like that.”

Everything was crumbling around him and he couldn’t even get up the courage to end it all. There were so many ways of doing it. Ways that would make it much faster and cleaner than the route he was going now.

“How much time to you have, sweet thing?”

Slow motion-suicide was the most accurate way to describe Dick Grayson’s life right now. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he had eaten. Not to mention slept a full eight hours. He was losing weight, he could tell because the Nightwing blue was hanging looser on him than it ever had. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he wasn’t going last much longer.

“Best looking corner I’ve found. Hop in.”

It had been five months since he’d been dropped from the task force. Four months since he’d cleaned his apartment to Alfred’s standard. Six months since he’d talked to Batman or Robin. But it had only been a week since the bone-deep pain and hollowness had started. That gnawing hunger he couldn’t tell was the real thing or just a mental back lash had always been there. Only now it was making the edges of his vision blacken and waver.

Tonight, he was standing on Elmont and Sixth, resting against the corner of a run down convince store. His head was pounding, whether because the last man had pumped him full of alcohol or because he hadn’t managed to grab a granola bar since yesterday morning, he wasn’t sure. He sighed heavily, feeling the thin tank top shift over muscles he had once been proud of.

He should be cold, that much he knew, but he couldn’t really find himself bothered to care. The tiny shorts Mr. Winston insisted he wear would hardly be considered cover. Although, the boots did a small job at covering his calves. He plucked slightly at the thick collar at his neck. This night, like many others, that pathetic excuse for leather felt like it weighed over a ton.

“Hey darling,” someone cooed to his left.

That coy, ‘fuck-me-now’ smile curled over his face, not even attempting to hit his eyes. He turned his head to look at the man, tucking a lock of hair that seriously needed a cut behind an ear. “Hey there, handsome,” he replied, saccharine sweet and sly.

The man smiled back, rancid and disgusting on so many levels. “How much?” He asked, tilting his head.

Before Dick could answer a hand shot out of the alley and slammed into the side of the man’s head, throwing him to the ground. “More than you could afford,” Jason Todd stated, stepping out of the alley, glaring at the body on the floor.

Dick jerked, instinctively pulling away, ready for a fight. “What are you doing here, Todd?” He demanded, all sweetness gone.

Jason turned his head to look at the thinnest excuse for Dick Grayson he had ever seen. His mouth twisted down. “I’m here to get you,” he replied, eyes narrowed. “You look like shit.”

A sharp huff answered Jason. Dick drew himself up, trying to look as dignified as he possibly could. “What do you want?” Dick asked, voice going as sharp as nails.

“To help you,” Jason replied. “Robin told me that you hadn’t been doing well and I had to see it for myself.”

Everything tilted slightly to the left. Tim had gone to Jason? Well, it was possibly more accurate that Jason had cornered Tim and demanded to know why Dick hadn’t been in Gotham recently. But, still, Tim had told him. The boy was worried enough to tell the one person hell-bent on killing him that he was concerned for Dick’s health. He didn’t deserve that kindness. It made his chest clench and his knees wobble.

“Hey,” Jason cried, lurching forward to catch Dick before he fell. Gathering Dick against his chest. “Don’t give up yet. I just got here.”

-/-

If there was anyone who knew what it felt like to hit the complete bottom of it all and crawl his way all the way back to the top, it was Jason Todd. He had, literally, fought his way through the dirt and grime of the world, tearing open his skin and exposing the smallest parts of his soul. Despite all of that, he had come out better for it.

A stronger person because of it.

There was no getting around it, if anyone could pull Dick out of Hell it was Jason.

“Dick, wake up,” he said, gently slapping the man’s cheeks.

Dick groaned softly, the sound pulling out of his throat and threatening to scratch it raw. He shifted, shocked to find soft pillows under him; not the rough carpet of his apartment that he usually collapsed on.

“Come on, I’m not below ripping covers off,” Jason complained, hitting Dick’s shoulder this time.

“Okay! I’m getting up.” Dick’s eyes snapped open to find themselves locking onto a cream colored ceiling. He glared at it. “Jason, what am I doing in your apartment?”

Jason paused in the middle of pulling clothes out of a box on the floor. “Sleeping,” he replied, lifting a pair of pants and a shirt. “Soon, you’ll be showering. Do you have any idea how much you smell right now?”

A very brief moment of embarrassment crossed Dick’s system, but it was hard pressed to stay. After all, it was hard to feel shame for something that didn’t have any right to be dignified in the first place. Slowly, Dick sat up, letting the blankets pool around his naked waist. Had it been any other time in his life, he would have been horrified to find himself waking up sans clothing in someone elses bed.

Jason turned to look at him, tossing the outfit onto the edge of the bed. “Why did you let yourself get his bad?” He asked, expression demanding an answer.

Dick’s jaw tightened, threatening silence but the longer Jason stared the less confident he became. “I had no choice.”

The only person to profess death as ‘not so bad’ stared at him like he’d grown two heads. “No choice? Dick, come on, that’s weak and we both know it. All you had to do was drop a pair and ask.”

Dick snarled, less man and more beast. “Don’t talk to me like that, Jason. I really don’t need it from you,” he snapped, throwing the blankets back and hauling himself out of bed. “I’m doing just fine on my own.”

“Obviously not!” Jason returned, stepping up, almost towering over Dick. “Look at yourself!”

“I don’t need to,” he stated, shoving at Jason’s chest, trying to move him. “I know what I look like.”

Jason caught Dick’s wrists in his hands. “And just what is that, exactly?”

The sudden shift between anger to pity shattered Dick’s already glass thin mind. He stopped and stared at Jason’s face. For once he didn’t have an answer to give and that seemed to scare him more than anything else. He swallowed, chest heaving with something akin to sobs. “Let me go, Jason!” He growled, jerking back on his hands.

Jason shook his head. “No.” He hauled Dick to the bathroom as easily as he would a child. “Look at that.”

'That’ was no better than an 'it’. Dick had ceased to be a man and was now a vague shadow of the least form of human. He stared at the gaunt, terribly thin man in the mirror. There was no possible way that was him and yet, when he lifted a hand to touch the fading cheeks, the reflection moved as well. Scars that had been invisible for years were suddenly bright and shiny. Bruises, marks, cuts all of it were brilliant against his almost translucent skin.

“Oh God…” He breathed, dull eyes traveling across the gruesome image. “I…”

Jason’s hand, so much bigger and warmer than his own rested on his shoulder. “Dick, you need help.”

Dick’s expression snapped down to something evil and horrid. “And you think you’re the one to do it?” He demanded, glaring at Jason’s face in the mirror.

Jason nodded. “But not alone. Tim is going to help.”

That made every thin line holding Dick up break. “No,” he breathed, slumping against the bathroom counter. “I can’t. He can’t… Jason…”

“You can. We all can,” Jason soothed, his normally vicious tones dulled to the caress of silk. “You have to Dick.”

“Why?”

There was a pause. “Because…” Jason stopped, taking a moment to swallow. “We need you. I… I need you.”

Dick looked up, this time looking at Jason not the mirror. “You need me?” He asked, sounding more broken than any human had any right to.

Jason nodded. “You were the first person I wanted the respect of,” he admitted, smudging the truth enough to bring Dick back to life. “And you’re the only person Tim will go out of his way to help.” The hand on Dick’s shoulder tightened. “Dick, I am going to help you whether you want it or not.”

A shudder rolled down Dick’s spine. He didn’t know if he could take that. It had been so long since he had even tried to hope that someone would drop a hand down to offer. He sucked in a shuddering breath.

“Jason…. Fuck…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. “Please… Please help me.”

“I will, Dick. I promise,” Jason replied, tugging Dick against his chest. “You’re my brother.”

Dick heaved a sob into Jason’s shirt.

Every pain, cut and burn he had felt in the past half a year tumbled out of Dick. All the anger and sorrowed he denied having he poured out like it was going to be his last moment on earth. His fears consumed his thoughts, each one fighting to be released. From every corner of his destroyed body and mind, all the pieces he didn’t even know he’d buried came bubbling up to the surface almost drowning him in their strength and hunger.

Through it all, his sobs and cries, he heard Jason soothing him. Gentle strokes over his far too bony back brushing it all away like so many cobwebs.

By the end, Dick was exhausted, panting and finding it hard to stand on his own. But he wouldn’t have to, not any more. He had people who would help.

For the first time, in a long time, he had options.


End file.
